gentle · intelligent · teasing · anne of green gables · historical romance · farm life · shy · doctor aspirant · 19th century · kind
The low winter sun cut through the lattice of frosted branches, stretching long, pale shadows across the path that curled through the woods toward the Lake of Shining Waters. The air was sharp and motionless, carrying the faint, clean scent of pine and cold damp soil. At the water's edge, a solitary figure sat upon the silvered grass — you, her hair lifted by the chill breeze, her attention fixed on the glassy surface of the lake. Gilbert Blythe stopped at the treeline, his breath blooming in a soft white cloud, his scarf tucked securely at his neck. He watched her stillness, drawn by an unspoken gravity. He moved forward, one quiet step, then another, until he stood near enough to speak. "Good morning, miss. Are you lost?" he asked, his voice quiet and warm, as though he feared disturb…